


Victory Is Won In Inches Not Miles

by Kahtya Sofia (KahtyaSofia)



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M, Parthenon Prompt Table, Prompt: 08 Betrayed By/In Love, Table: Malpomene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-21
Updated: 2010-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-12 02:00:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/Kahtya%20Sofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad attends a party with some 'friends' and has a revelation that might have come a little too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Victory Is Won In Inches Not Miles

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Melpomene – 08. Betrayed By/In Love

Brad shifted the case of beer he carried from his right to his left hand and rang the doorbell. He had places he’d rather be and things he’d rather do, but he wasn’t going to let them win. Giving them any indication that he was anything other than indifferent to them would mean their victory.

The door opened and there stood Justin, smiling up at him. Brad returned the smile, happy to see his oldest friend. He shook Justin’s offered hand and allowed himself to be pulled in for a hug, relieved that the beer in his other hand gave him an excuse not to hug back. Brad was oversized and awkward in these situations. It was better that he avoided them, spent most of his time alone.

“Come on in, buddy, glad you came,” Justin said, holding the door wide for Brad to step through. The house looked the same, large, open, carefully decorated and neat as a pin. “You can put the beer in the cooler on the patio.”

Michelle sat at the long table under the vine-covered trellis that covered the back patio. Brian and Casey were already there, as were John and Colleen. Matthew was also there, yet another new women sitting beside him. The hollowness is Brad’s gut was because he detested Matthew but couldn’t show it, not because the whiney prick went through women like Brad went through ammo. Michelle would be pissed at Brad if he humiliated Matt again. Besides, women that would be attracted to Matt didn’t interest Brad.

“Hey, Brad,” Michelle said, standing to embrace him. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Where else would he go?” Matt interjected as Brad busied himself putting the beer on ice. “If he isn’t running around shooting at things he’s riding around on that deathtrap of a bike.”

Brad just smiled in answer, twisting off the cap of a beer. He liked his job and he loved his bike and he wasn’t in the mood to defend either. He took a chair at the table that put as much space between himself and everyone else as possible.

“Oh, Brad occasionally comes down off of that superior mountain of his, in order to remind himself why he avoids the inferior masses in the first place,” Michelle said, her smile sharp enough to draw blood.

When Brad was on his bike, isolated inside of his helmet, he felt alone. He liked alone. Sitting here, among people he had nothing in common with, who didn’t understand him, Brad felt _lonely_.

He listened to the conversation swirl around him, commenting only when asked, which was infrequent. Brad’s presence went largely unnoticed until the woman with Matt, Brandy or Mandy, asked about his silence.

“Colbert’s a grunt. They’re all brawn and no brain,” Matt said, meeting Brad’s eyes challengingly. “Smart people run when bullets start flying.”

Matt was too stupid to know smart if it shot him in the ass. Brad was suddenly enraged at always having his life, his choices, and his men maligned.

“My Platoon Commander is living proof that you are talking out your ass,” he said, standing and tossing his empty into the bin. “He’s a Dartmouth grad who put himself in the line of fire to get his entire platoon out of a kill zone. Successfully, I might add.” Thoughts of Nate had Brad’s heart rate kicking up. He was inexplicably flushed with pleasure as Nate’s face flashed passed his mind’s eye. “He’d kick your ass in a battle of wits, since you’d be showing up unarmed. And, he knows as many ways to kill you as I do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to piss.”

Laughter followed Brad through the house, and he could tell that Michelle’s was forced and uncomfortable.

The bathroom was down the hallway. Brad fucking hated this hallway. It was a gauntlet worthy of the Crucible. The pictures on the walls showed happy times. Brad was in many of them. This end of the corridor held the photos from their youth, of times spent together, the three of them. Brad’s breath caught in his throat, as he looked at himself, so young and so happy.

In most of the photos, Brad had an arm around Michelle. In many of them, she had an arm around him. In others, they were hugging. Always, beside them, was Justin, smiling wide.

The closer Brad got to the bathroom, the more painful it always became to look at the photos. He was absent in the more recent ones. In those, Michelle and Justin were wrapped around each other, smiling, laughing, and often times, kissing. It always gutted Brad. He’d driven his best friend and his fiancée into one another’s arms with his … ways. He’d been distant and absent and self involved and he’d pushed them together.

Brad took a deep breath and released it slowly, as if preparing to fire on the exhale. His eyes landed on one photo in particular and it felt like a knife twisting in his chest. It was of the three of them on the beach with their surfboards. He’d been thinking of this photo in particular as he’d sat in the Humvee in Iraq, spilling his fucking guts. Telling the story had left him feeling off balance, uncomfortable in his own skin.

Suddenly, Nate had appeared in the window of the Humvee and gripped Brad’s arm. He’d praised Brad, complimented him, and expressed confidence in him. That’s all it had taken for Brad to get his shit together.

With the memory of Nate fresh in his mind, Brad looked again at that particular photo. This time, he saw something he hadn’t seen the last hundred times he’d looked.

Brad swallowed back the anger and resentment. His fault, they’d told him. He’d pushed them each away and toward one other. He was responsible for his own pain and betrayal.

He’d let them convince him of this. Brad had shouldered the responsibility and repeatedly come here to let them berate him and humiliate him.

There, in the photo, was proof of their lies. The betrayal was theirs alone and blaming Brad had been a way of assuaging their guilt. His former fiancée had been unfaithful and his best friend had violated the brotherhood of their friendship. Brad had fucking let them do it. He’d let them convince him that his warrior spirit and love of speed and solitude and were _wrong_.

He relieved his bladder quickly, realizing he wasn’t going to stay any longer and subject himself to this twisted attempt at absolution. He especially wasn’t going to tolerate that dick-suck Matthew any longer, just to try to make Michelle happy.

Brad wanted to share his sudden enlightenment with Nate, tell him that he’d had a hand in it, however indirect. He wondered if Nate would care. There had been times in theater, and even now that they were back in the States, that Nate had seemed to be reaching out to Brad. It was as if Nate were willing Brad to understand more than just what he was saying.

He’d willfully ignored those signals because he’d believed he didn’t deserve something as fine as Nate in his life. And now, he was down to mere days before Nate was out of the Corps and off to Harvard.

As if Brad’s thoughts had conjured him, Brad’s cell phone rang and Nate’s name showed on the display. He answered the call as he stepped through the door and back onto the patio.

“Yes, sir,” Brad said crisply, walking past everyone to find privacy in the open backyard.

“I was wondering if you wanted to get a beer or something?” Nate asked succinctly. Brad liked that about Nate. “I’ve only got a few days left before I leave and I’d like to do something non-Corps related with you.”

Brad had almost let guilt and pain keep him from something he wanted. It had kept him from even realizing he even wanted it. Nate’s question made it seem as though there was still time, as though Brad _hadn’t_ completely blown this, yet. He just had to put this shit behind him and at least _try_. He hadn’t even tried in so long, he couldn’t remember anymore.

“What are you doing right now?” he asked. “I’m at a pussy civilian bar-b-cue that I would love an excuse to leave.”

Nate’s laughter was deep and warm and a shiver ran down Brad’s spine in response.

“Now’s great,” Nate agreed. “Where would you like to meet?”

“My fridge is full of beer,” Brad offered.

“Got all the bases covered, huh, Sergeant?”

“Not all, but I’m working on improving my situational awareness.”

“Your place in an hour, then?”

“See you then.”

“Let me guess,” Michelle said, her contempt barely disguised. “A fellow Marine calls and you immediately have to run off.”

“Non-Corps related beer consumption with my afore-mention Platoon Commander,” Brad said, hands on his hips as he regarded her with new eyes. “As he’s smarter than all of you put together, his company is infinitely more welcome and more interesting.” He dragged the screen door open sharply and turned back just before sliding is closed again. “As for the Corps, remember our motto is _Always Faithful._ My fellow warriors take that seriously, even if no one here does.”

Brad didn’t pay attention to the outraged exclamations behind him. He was looking forward now, looking ahead to his time with Nate.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by karihermione. Thank you!


End file.
